Rebirth
by Ldihawk
Summary: ROTS. Anakin is reborn after the duel with ObiWan. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Star Wars not even a flannel shirt.

This is my first posted fanfiction. Please review, but please don't flame. I may continue with other vignettes depending on response.

Pain. Unimaginable, excruciating, and white hot. Screaming as cloth and then flesh is burned away on the acrid bank, I stare into the eyes of the man I once loved as a father and find no solace there. "I hate you" I scream. Obi-Wan betrayed me. He turned the only woman I ever loved against me. A new pain tears through my chest—the pain of shame, of loss. He has won. I wait for him to strike—to deliver the killing blow. I long for death's embrace, but I know Obi-Wan will not end my suffering. He stares at me with a mix of regret and pity in his cerulean eyes. "I loved you, but I could not save you. Goodbye, old friend." He turns his back and leaves me to burn. A fitting punishment for the horrors I've committed. I know I will die here. Alone. Abandoned.

My broken body is growing suddenly cold and a cloud of darkness descends over me. Years of battle training tell me I am going into shock. The blackness enfolds me like a thick blanket and I do not fight. The Blackness is my salvation.

_I crouch in a corner of the ship alone and afraid. Tears role down my_

_cheeks for my moth-r for the home I left. I wonder what will happen to me. _

_Someone else is awake. Padme. I hurriedly brush the tears from my eyes. _

"_Ani, what's wrong?" _

"_I'm cold." _

_She covers me with her soft shawl. Holds my hand. _

My eyes open and my body tenses. "Padme!" I croak through lips cracked and bleeding. I sense her presence alive but faint. I have to reach her. Everything I did was for her. She cannot die. We would have been happy if Obi-Wan hadn't blinded her to the truth. I stretch my remaining mechanical hand in a futile effort to drag myself from the bank. The gears buckle in the heat and I fall like a broken droid onto my back. The acrid smoke fills my lungs and the cold returns. I am gasping for breath and each effort is agonal and shallow. I grow dizzy and my vision fades. The dull thunder of the lava flow grows distant. Mercifully, the pain is gone till I am nothing—only blackness.

Death is too good for me. I awake to the feeing of a smooth cold surface beneath my back. Muffled voices float above me metallic and distorted. I cannot see or move. "We must administer fluids…" "His condition is too severe for Bacta treatment. We need to relplace his lungs." If I could move, I would rage against these voices. Then, I hear the familiar voice of my master dark and resonant. "Do what you must. I want him alive."

A strange analgesia has come over me, but it does not last. I manage finally to open my eyes. Light stabs my eyes like shards of glass. I am in a medical facility. Somehow, I am alive. I try to sit up feeling shooting pains. I remember with indignation that I am no longer whole and fall back. Obi-Wan. I vow that he will pay for every injury, every scar. I hear the metallic whir of droids approaching and red hot needles are stabbed into sensitive stumps. Another debrides dead tissue and I scream arching my back. The sting of a needle silences me.

Hours, days, years pass. Time is irrelevant here. My body is heavy and unnatural. I try to call out but my voice is inaudible. Something is nearing my face. I turn my head as much as the restraints allow trying to escape, but in an instant a mask seals and I am trapped. I breathe but not of my own volition. My breath echoes in an unnatural hiss. A viewscreen casts a reddish glare on everything so that through the computerized sensors I simultaneously see _everything_ and nothing. My hearing is augmented so I suddenly hear every creak of machinery, every rustle of cloth. A series of aural processors amplify and interpret. The table suddenly tilts forward, but I am not set free. My Master is near andI sense that he is pleased with his creation. He speaks. "Lord Vader."

I answer, but my voice is not my own. "Yes, My Master."

"Riiiiise."

"Where is Padme?" My voice is flat, emotionless.

I sense his joy and for the first time am hopeful.

He speaks slowly as if scolding a child, "I'm afraid in your anger you killed her."

Every part of me recoils.

"That's impossible. She was alive when…"

I remember her words to me then with revulsion how I hurt her—how Obi-Wan made me hurt her. I will hunt him till I draw my last breath.

My master's voice is suddenly gentle. "Search your feelings."

I stretch out with the force and find no trace of her. A primal scream echoes through my being. I want to die and escape the hideous thing I've become. I want to kill. I break free of my restraints and struggle to stand on my heavy limbs. All my hatred and sorrow surfaces in a tempest that buckles the walls and destroys medical droids. A turbulent wind billows My Master's robes. I fall to my knees defeated and destroyed. As he places a proprietary hand on my shoulder, I wonder if he realizes that his servant is a dead man.

The End


End file.
